


Dear Santa

by teamcap4bucky



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16896339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamcap4bucky/pseuds/teamcap4bucky
Summary: Bucky only wants one thing this holiday season, but it’s so big, he’s not even sure that Santa can deliver it.





	Dear Santa

The hustle of the crowds and the bright colored lights of the city did little to distract him from his thoughts. As Bucky passed every couple holding hands, his heart ached a little more, and the feeling of loneliness crept deeper into his soul.

That should be us.

That should be you wearing a warm, cozy sweater. A cute little hat on top of your head. It should be your arm wrapped tightly around his, weaving between other couples in love and families giggling with cheer. He wanted to be the one to pull you in tighter. Keeping you warm as the blustery wind whipped through the towering buildings. He should be watching your face light up as your eyes wander over each storefront window, decked out in holiday themes and glowing lights.

Instead, he joylessly walked alone with what little spirit he had left at him.Trudging through the snow covered streets, praying to find some kind of last minute gifts for the few team members left on his Christmas list.

If it was up to him, he wouldn’t even be involved in the celebrations this year. His heart just isn’t in it. Truth be told, if it wasn’t for Steve’s incessant nagging and his constant jabs about how you “wouldn’t have wanted him to sit out and miss everything because I’m not around” crap, he would have just locked himself in his room and slept through the whole damn thing.

It just wasn’t the same without you. It was supposed to be your first Christmas together as a couple. Sure, last year was great, but you were just friends then. Now you were so much more, and he honestly didn’t know how he was going to do it without you this time.

He missed everything about you.

He missed waking up with you in his arms, cuddled in against his chest. He missed how your thumb would slowly slide against his skin, calming him through his nightmares and gently easing him awake each morning. The way you would brush his hair out of his face before you kissed him goodnight.  
He missed your warmth. How you were constantly nurturing to him, making sure he was taken care of. Knowing just what he needed even when he couldn’t find the words to tell you. You always seemed to know him better than he knew himself.

He missed your voice. Especially this time of year. He loved waking up to the sound as you quietly sang while making breakfast for him. He loved the way he could tell what mood you were in by how loud you sang in the shower. Or how he would catch you dancing around the house, belting out your best impression of your favorite songs into a hairbrush, spatula, or a random handle of a knife he had left out. Which he always frowned upon. He would always smile at the sassy face you would make as you stuck out your tongue when he took it away, handing you a pen or a spoon instead.

At the end of the day…he just missed you.

Who’s left?

Steve  
Birdbrain  
Clint  
Wanda  
Nat  
Tony  
Bruce  
Peter  
Y/N  
He pulls the wrinkled list from the pocket of his jacket making sure that he doesn’t forget anyone at home.

He passes by a few jewelry and book stores, then a few boutiques. He ends up standing under a large archway of a four floored department store decorated to the nines.  
This was his last hope. If he couldn’t find something in here, he had no chance in hell of finding something on-line.

He searches through racks and aisles of everything that everyone could possible want, but never really knowing what any of them would really need. He finally settles on a outfit or two for each of them, adding on a few accessories as he passes them, while making his way to the register. He gives the best smile that he can muster up before grabbing his bags and turning away to head back to the crowded streets below.

As he heads out to the elevators, he can’t help but hear the sounds of children laughing nearby. He slowly walks to the railing, looking over to see a large display on the floor below in the center of the store.

“Santa’s Headquarters” it read. There were huge lines surrounding the big red chair. One for the train, one to send letters to the North Pole, and one to take pics with the man himself. He watched as the children begged their parents to meet him. To show them their list, and to let them know whether they had been naughty or nice.  
He shook his head at the thought of what list he might be on these days. Can you even make it back on the nice list after you had done so many horrible things? You would have told him yes, and wouldn’t have thought twice about it…but you weren’t here. It was just him standing alone, making himself second guess everything that you had ever told him was good in him.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears the loud chuckle of the Jolly bearded man below, most likely laughing at a request from the small boy in his lap. He imagined him asking for a bike, electronics, or money.

To be six years old again…

He hadn’t realized that he had been staring for longer than he probably should have until the sound of a small cough pulled him from his haze. Next to him stood a man dressed in holiday attire, resembling an elf, probably on break from the madness down below.

“A present for your thoughts?” He questions.

Bucky just looks back to the young boy in Santa’s lap in silence.

“It was so easy back then, wasn’t it? A small toy, a book, maybe a ball and bat. Things sure have changed.”

Bucky nods his head.

If only this guy knew.

“If you could have anything for this holiday season…anything at all. What would you ask him for?

Bucky furrows his brow pretending to think hard about his answer, knowing there was only one.

“I would ask for more time.” Says the man next to him.

Bucky looks up at him in question.

“More time with my family. My wife, and my kids. Time goes by so quickly, and they grow up so fast. They don’t have time for this anymore. They’re to big for Santa they tell me.” They both let out a small chuckle at the thought.

“I tell them every year, no one is to big for Santa. Not even you.” He nods towards Bucky who’s able to pull his lips up into a small smile for the man.

“So tell me. If he could bring you the one thing you wanted, what would you ask for?”

Bucky looks back over the railing to the man in red.

“I just want to see my girl again.”

To this the man smiles. He nods his head at Bucky understanding his request.

“I can’t make any promises kid, but I’ll tell the big man and see what he can do.”

A small smile is all Bucky can muster up. It would take a miracle.

He enters your apartment dropping all of his bags to the floor. Kicking off his shoes, he heads towards the bathroom to get in a quick shower before the wrapping of the presents begins. The steam from the shower relaxes him enough, but it’s not enough to wash you away from his thoughts. Throwing on a pair of sweatpants, he walks through the bare apartment to the kitchen to grab a cup of hot chocolate. That was about as festive as he would be this year.

He brings his cup to the living room floor, grabbing all the essentials for wrapping. He sits in front of the bare tree that you had put up weeks ago. You had promised you would decorate it together. He refused to do it alone, so it sat there empty of lights and cheer, just like him.

He surrounds himself with shiny paper, bows and boxes. It took every bit of energy that he had to pull himself together, pulling each item out of the department bags.  
“What is that?” You ask, trying not to laugh as he places a horribly wrapped box under the tree.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with it?”

“What’s wrong with it!? For one, you missed a side…and for two, what does that even say?” Holding up the box, you lean in trying to read the scratched up name on the tag.  
“For one, It says Stupidhead…and for two…he’s lucky he’s getting anything at all.”

“Bucky.” You shake your head as you draw out his name in a disappointed whine. When you see him put on his best innocent smile, you can’t help but start to giggle.

“Bucky, it’s the holidays.”

“I just don’t see why I have to pretend to like him just because it’s ‘that time of year.’ We know where we stand.”

“Rewrap it. He’s your friend, and you’re his. Stop pretending like you don’t like him. You’ve risked your life saving him one to many times for me to believe that, and he does the same for you.”

“I’m only doing this because I hate when you give me that look.”

“What look?” You throw your best disappointed shady look his way.

“That one!” He points, and you both can’t help but laugh, giving each other a few playful shoves.

He shakes his head as he places a bow on top of the small neatly wrapped box, and presses the small name tag down.

To: Sam  
From: Bucky  
Happy Holidays

The next few days were misery. He spent most of the day wallowing around the compound, pouting every chance that he possible could. He refused to join in when Sam invited him to dinner each night. He skipped out on movie night when Wanda had asked him to watch Elf, and then locked himself in his room when Steve asked if he wanted to help bake cookies for Christmas day.

Absolutely not.

Cookies were your thing. You baked the most delicious desserts each year. The smells of cinnamon, chocolate, and peppermint would pull people in from every floor. Everyday holiday the tables would be filled with traditional treats, making sure each person had something that reminded them of home.

“It smells delicious in here.” Bucky walks around the kitchen island, joining you near the stove. “What’s in there?”

“Dutch apple pie.” You smirk when you see his eyes light up. He watches as you hand mix a fresh batch of dough, adding a bit of vanilla extract to the bowl.

“What’s that?” He asks curiously.

“Chocolate pie.”

“I’ve never had that before.”

“Well, you’re going to have to try some. I am making it for you after all.”

“For me? Why?”

“Steve said you liked sweets and desserts. So I asked him what you liked when you were younger. He said pies, chocolate, cookies…” You laugh a little as he stares into the bowl. “… pancakes, which I’m making for breakfast on Christmas.”

“This all seems like a lot of trouble for…”

“It’s not trouble. I love doing this. I make something that everyone loves so it’s like they each have a piece of home during the holidays. You’re getting extra because you happened to miss a lot more.”

“You made so much though! What’s in these containers here?”

“Those are the chocolate chip cookies, the Snickerdoodles, Papanași, and lemon squares. After this is done, I’m going to decorate the sugar cookie lollipops. Do you want to help me? I could use it actually.”

“Oh. Um…I’m not really sure how much help I would be, doll. I’ve haven’t made anything in awhile.” He stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets suddenly becoming very shy, pulling his lips to the side.

“I’ll show you how to do it. It will be fun.”

You had stayed up till three am that night. Baking, decorating, and talking about everything under the stars. It was one of the best nights of his life, and he never wanted it to end. Somewhere between the sprinkling of powdered sugar on the lemon squares, and catching him for the third time stealing the m&ms for Sam’s lollipop cookies, you had decided to go on your first date the next day. A day after that you were making pancakes for him, and he was head over heels for his new girlfriend. Sure it was insanely fast, but love is love.

He grunts to himself, rolling over in frustration. Throwing the covers over his head attempting to block out the light from the sun, and the pounding noise coming from the door. When the noise doesn’t cease, he knows he’s better off just answering it. It’s Christmas eve, and he knows that there is no way that Steve is going to tolerate him staying in bed all day. He kicks of his covers and reluctantly gets up, lazily walking towards the source of the noise.

Before Steve even starts Bucky holds up his hand, stopping what he knew would be a long lecture about being together on the holidays. He was already over it.

“I know it’s hard buck.”

“Steve.” He draws out his name in a waning tone, waving his hand quickly asking him to stop.

“She wouldn’t want you to be like this. She wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

He’s cut off by the door shutting in his face. Bucky heads back to bed and is almost tucked back in when he hears Steve in the threshold of his room.

“You have ten minutes, or I’m dragging your ass out of here. Got it?”

“Yes, dad.”

He throws the cover back over his head, ignoring the scoff from his friend.

“Ten minutes, Buck!”

“Get out!” He whines as he throws a pillow at his friend.

He had tried to make the best of his day with the team hounding him every minute of every hour. Wanda had him help wrap presents, Sam made him come to the VA for a holiday luncheon, and Pepper dragged him, Tony and Steve to visit with some kids at a local hospital. He actually liked that part of his day. He loved how the kids never seemed to be afraid of him. He was pleased when he had realized that he had actually gone a few hours without thinking about you, and that maybe he would be able to get through the rest of the day if he just focused on the positives.

As the evening rolls around he finds himself sitting with his friends at the table. All of them happy, laughing, and excited to open presents the next morning. He tried so hard to smile, to relax, to join in on the “who always gets the worst gifts” conversation that was happening before him, but nothing could bring him out of the funk that had crept into his mind.

As they speak around him he finds himself staring at the large tree in the living room. It had the usual lights, ornaments, and a few scattered presents down below. Yet something about it just wasn’t right.

It was missing you.

It seemed so dull to him. It seemed to lack life. It didn’t shine the way it did when you had decorated it. It didn’t welcome you into the room when you walked in. It didn’t make you stare in awe, or stop you in your tracks at the beauty of it. It didn’t make you…well…it didn’t make you believe.

As he looks around the table, he can see the look on his friends faces. He knows what they’re thinking, and he knows they’re trying their best to get him through the holiday in one piece. He appreciates the effort. He truly does, but there is something about you that just simply cannot be replaced. 

After cleaning the table and bidding everyone a good night, he retires to the bedroom. He sulks in the hot shower for a few minutes before dropping his weight into bed. Flicking on the tv, he groans as he sees that every channel is filled with romantic sap-filled holiday movies. He finally lands on a science channel, and immerses himself in a story about a long lost artifact before sleep finally takes him.

He’s woken the next morning by a familiar knocking on his front door. He can barely see a thing, but knows that he must have had a rough night as the tv was still on, his pillows had been thrown to the floor, and the covers were barely hanging onto to his legs.

Steve slowly enters the bedroom to find Bucky, a bit disoriented still, in nothing but sweatpants at the foot of his bed.

“Morning.” He says quietly sitting next to him.

“Mmmm.” Is all he can grunt out, his voice rough with sleep.

“Um…listen. I know this has been really hard for you, and I’m sorry for that. I also know that I made a promise to her that no matter what you said or did, no matter how completely block headed and stubborn you were, or how hard you fought me…that under no circumstances was I to allow you to sit in your room to pout like a child for the day.”

Bucky looks up at him, annoyed that he had had the audacity to even say those things about him, forcing Steve to hold up his hands in defense.

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah…that sounds like her.” He rolls his eyes while shaking his head.

“Please, for me…for her, just come out and open your presents, and try to at least pretend like you’re having a good time. Everyone worked really hard on gifts this year and they really want you to be there.”

He sighs at the thought. It was going to take everything he had to get through this day, but he knew if Steve was there to help him it just might be possible.

“Alright…but only for her.”

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve sends an understanding smirk his way.

“You’re welcome. Now get out of my room.”

He throws on a pair of plaid red flannel pajama bottoms and a nice t-shirt and heads towards the kitchen. He sleepily walks in to find Steve surrounded by the team. Everyone is quiet as they watch Bucky enter, watching his every move. Only he was too distracted to notice their stares as he found himself captured by the sights and smells surrounding him. He finds himself frozen, his brain trying to comprehend what it sees before him, almost as if he is still in a dream like haze.  
There were ribbons cascading from star to floor, and bright baubles that he swore were new. The presents were at least two feet higher, sparkling with bright threads, and colorful wrap. The smell of fresh cookies filled the air, and cinnamon pinecones littered the floor.

As he moves forward deeper into the room, the presence of a figure catches his attention.

He swore his eyes were deceiving him. It was just some sick game his mind was playing, toying with his emotions…but then there you were. Lying quietly under the tree, a Santa hat on your head, surrounded by scissors and tape, bows and gift bags. You had just fallen asleep at sunset making sure the last minutes touches were done.  
He rubs his eyes as he quietly kneels down next you. He hesitates to touch you, scared that his hand might pass right through like a mirage, just to tease him. His breath catches when he hears a slightly content moan as he gently brushed the fuzzy ball of the hat from your forehead. He watches as you begin to stir as he runs his thumb over your cheek. Your eyes fighting to stay closed, but the to familiar feeling of his touch makes the beating of your heart win out.

Once your eyes land upon him, your smile grows and your body finally catches up. Your hand grabs his, kissing his knuckles when you see the little bit of doubt in his eyes at your presence.

“I’m not dreaming right? Tell me it’s really you, doll.”

“It’s really me, baby”

“You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

His eyes fill with tears as he tries to hold back his excitement. He leans in slowly, his lips finding yours, seeking them like they were air for his lungs.

When you pull back, he can’t help but grin as he grabs you up, standing suddenly, making you giggle as he spins you around.

As he hugs you again, he looks over your shoulder to find that the whole team has been watching. There they stood crowded together, arms around one another. Wet eyes all around.

“I called in a few favors. Everyone chipped in a little bit of time for the mission to get her home for a few days.” Steve says. “Even Tony.”

He squeezes you tighter as his eyes squeeze shut. He takes in your scent, cataloging everything about you so he won’t forget when you leave again.

As he looks over at his new family again, he’s overcome with such emotion that he can’t seem to find the words to express how grateful he is. He just mouths a thank you, to which they all happily accept.

“Well, come on! I brought everyone gifts. Let’s get started!” You giggle out wanting to get on with the holiday fun. You didn’t want to waste a single moment with anyone today. 

Everyone runs to the tree all dressed up in their holiday pajamas. They start to divvy out the presents to each other. Each one attempting to guess what it was by shaking and rolling each one. Bucky could care less about the contents of any of them. You were the only gift that mattered. The only one he ever needed.

“How did you manage to do all of this in one night?” He asks, pulling you into his lap.

“Who’s to say I did it all by myself? Maybe I had help.” He laughs as you blow the small white ball of your hat off of your forehead. “Don’t you believe in Santa Claus?” You ask, giving him a small wink.

“I do now. I know he’s real.” He says as he stares into your eyes, memorizing everything about the way you look so he can remember it forever.

“Oh really? Now how do you know that?”

“Because I asked him for you.”


End file.
